


Girls' Night

by DelilahBlueEyes



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Stargate Universe
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Rushbelle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-07 23:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/754239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelilahBlueEyes/pseuds/DelilahBlueEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some of the women on Destiny gather for a night away from the men and end up gabbing about…. personal things. Rush overhears and awkwardness ensues. Just a silly, fun drabble that didn’t want to leave me alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Ah, shit!” Tamara sucked in a breath through her teeth and rubbing at watering eyes. “That stuff stings.”

She stretched out the arm holding the bottle to the next person in the circle, Belle, who took it gingerly and wrinkled her nose before sipping with one hand firmly pinching her nostrils, though it did little to lessen the burn of the alcohol as it traveled down her throat.

“It does taste rather unpleasant, doesn’t it?” she rasped as she struggled not to cough, closing her eyes and hoping that the bottle was in reach of Camile, who took it from her with a snort.

“You talk like a freakin’ Disney princess, Belle!” She laughed again before taking a mouthful of the rough, home-made alcohol. 

Belle smiled quietly down at her lap, wiping a finger under each of her streaming eyes but did not respond. The women around her joked and talked to each other in the shifting light of the enormous windows of the observation deck. Half of them were spread out across the bedding of a few vacant beds while the rest occupied one of the cushioned benches. They were having a girls night of sorts, having chosen a pleasant place to spend time together Belle herself was curled at the end of the bench closest to the shadowed doorway, her legs drawn to her chest and her chin resting on her knee as she half-listened to the conversation going on around her.

“Maybe if we squeeze one of those lime-ish things into it, it’ll be like tequila?” Lt. James suggested.

“Ugh, I hate tequila. It makes me a complete moron,” Chloe groaned.

“Really? It just makes everyone look pretty fuckable to me.” Lt. James grinned when a chorus of giggles greeted her words, taking another swig. 

“That’s actually an interesting topic of conversation,” Camile said as Belle received the bottle and prepared herself for the gasoline like fumes wafting from the mouth of the bottle. “Who would you guys sleep with out here?”

Belle half choked on her mouthful of liquor, dropping her feet to the floor so that she could lean forward and cough harshly into the crook of her elbow. Camile laughed and slapped her on the back a few times, which Belle wasn’t sure actually helped her at all.

“Do current partners count?” Lt. James asked.

“If you’d choose them again, having tested them out. Here, I’ll start. If I had to choose, I’d say….Greer?”

There was a murmur of assent around the small group and Belle found herself growing uncomfortable with the direction their talk had taken. As her coughs grew quieter and her vision cleared, she thought of excusing herself for a glass of water.

“What about you, Belle?”

Crap.

“W-what?” She asked, hoping that someone- anyone would wander into their party and forestall her having to answer this question.

“Who would you wine and dine if you could?” Lt. James clarified, damn her.

“Oh, well I- I mean I hadn’t really ever thought about it…” She let the sentence trail off and hoped that they would move on, that someone else would be more eager to share their thoughts. Apparently everyone was perfectly content to allow her time to consider. Perfect. “Well, I suppose if I… I mean if there was ever the right time….. I…. Perhaps… Doctor Rush?”

Her whispered words were met with utter silence and she fisted her hands in her skirt waiting for the mockery, the disgust that were sure to come. What she finally received was not at all what she expected.

“I could see it,” Chloe said thoughtfully, and expanded when several skeptical looks were cast her way. “Well, not for me, obviously. But I could see him and Belle. I mean, he’s never yelled at her, no matter how sharp he gets. He takes the time to teach her things that would get the rest of us verbally flayed by him. Plus, he gets all kinda flustered when she eats dinner with him.”

Belle’s head snapped up to find a variety of surprised but surprisingly not disgusted faces turned to her, along with Chloe’s knowing smirk.

“Yeah, I guess if anyone was gonna tame that man enough to get him in a bed, it would be Belle,” Lt. James allowed, apparently not noticing Belle’s blush and discomfort.

“Oh, he doesn’t seem the type to keep confined to a bed. The wall, the floor, the mess hall tables.” Lisa rolled onto her back and clutched at her stomach as she giggled.

“Yes, alright,” Belle murmured, her face flaming and her hands clenched together in her lap.

“Oh! Or the consoles in the control room for special occasions!” Camile positively cackled, as did everyone else.

“Please!” Belle cried, dropping her face into her hands in humiliation. “Please stop.”  
“Oh, we’re just teasing, sweetie.” Tamara sat up and reached a hand out to lay it gently on Belle’s knee. “Its just sex.”

“Not to me.” Belle had been raised to believe that sex was something that was used for creating children, for consummating a marriage, and for the novels that her nurse had tried to hide under her needlework and thought she didn’t know. Of course, her reading and her…. Experiences in this world had broadened her views on subjects such as sex, but to joke about it so brazenly was not something she was accustomed to.

“Well, we’re just speculating on what his favorite positions wound be—“

“Ah, sorry to interrupt.” 

The voice was like a bucket of ice being poured down the neck of her blouse. The brogue was unmistakable, and the tone seemed nervous. She’d asked—prayed for someone to stop this talk. Of course this would be how the gods would choose to answer her prayer.

“I had some questions about the notes you took for me the other day. I’m afraid I can’t quite make out your handwriting. If you wouldn’t mind…?”

“Oh, o-of course,” she replied, pushing herself away from the couch and habitually pushing her hair behind her ear as she crossed the cavernous room, avoiding his gaze as she reached him, not to mention the many she could feel on her back.

 

As they set off down the corridor together she hoped beyond hope that he hadn’t heard what they’d been talking of, but considering how they were a great distance away before the giggles and guffaws of her friends faded, it was almost impossible that he hadn’t heard. She wanted to scurry away to the furthest reaches of the unexplored sections of the ship and bury herself into a crevice where she would not be found until everyone had forgotten about her. But seeing as that was an entirely impractical impulse, she wracked her brain for something to begin a conversation. Anything that wasn’t what he had surely overheard.

“So,” he cleared his throat and her heart jumped so hard it physically hurt. “Camile and Sargent Greer, huh?”

She wanted to scream in relief, bless him. “Yeah, who would have thought?”

He turned back to face her when they reached his abandoned hallway, scribbled all over with equations. Belle usually found herself astounded by his dedication but now she was jittery and nervous and worried about what he may say every time he looked at her. But he only smiled and gestured for her to precede him through the doorway and she realized that they would be okay. The universe wouldn’t implode simply because she’d admitted her attraction to him. They could work together, live together and everything would be okay. Although if he kept staring at her like he was, she may have to excuse herself for the night and wait for the alcohol to wear off before she could face him again.

“Now how about this one?” He asked and his palm grazed the back of her hand when he moved to point to a line of smudged, cramped writing on the page of the notebook she was holding. 

She took a breath and could smell him, the sweat and musk and… him. She sighed and stepped inches closer to the wall, realizing that she was virtually pressed between him and the cool metal. This was going to be a long night.


	2. Rescuing Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Same chapter from Rush's POV. Awkwardness and little big damn heroics ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So quite a few people suggested this chapter and I love writing for Rush so of course I wrote it. The awkward phrasing of the first few sentences is supposed to be the echoed dialogue of the first chapter. Hope that comes across clearly!

“…Ah… ah ah… shit, shit-it!”

“…unpleasant-ant, doesn’t it-it?”

“…Disney princess, Belle-elle!”

If he’d been a dog, Rush was sure his ears would have visibly perked up at the mention of his assistant. He’d been on his way to the dining hall, taking a mandated (by Young, of course) break to rest and eat. He’d taken a less direct path from the control room in an attempt to avoid anyone else considering how very irritated he was feeling. Not that it was out of the norm, how much he wanted to smash something heavy and satisfyingly fragile, but it did not make for great conversation. But as he was passing the corridor to the observation deck he’d heard the bouncing echoes of female voices. Hearing Belle’s name had completely derailed his plan and drawn him in like a man well under a curse. 

He’d moved slowly toward the group of women, stopping short of the slanting beams of light that would reveal him spying like a petulant child. They were circled together, passing around a bottle of the experimental spirits made in the hydroponics lab. As he watched them sipping straight from the bottle, Rush found himself impressed that not one of them made more than a toke protest at how disgusting it was. It probably spoke more to a desire to feel the tingling vestiges of the meager alcohol than any real endurance, but it was impressive all the same. He was beginning to feel quite the fool for listening in to their giggling conversation when it suddenly took a very interesting turn.

“Who would you guys sleep with out here?” Camile asked in a voice hoarse with the remnants of a liquid harsh as gasoline.

“Do current partners count?” Lt. James asked, and Rush rolled his eyes. No surprises there. For a group of supposedly disciplined and strictly trained youths, they seemed to have no hold on their rampant, raging hormones. It seemed like there wasn’t a corner of the ship that he hadn’t caught Chloe and her boy toy necking at least once. It was sickening really. The only excuse, and a flimsy one at that, was the unquashable survival instinct of humans.

He suffered through Camile’s choice (Greer) and the general assent that it was met with and had just turned to leave when he noticed Belle’s body language. She had been curled comfortable on the bench, though she’d fallen forward coughing when the topic was breached. Now she sat with one foot stacked upon the other and both hands fisted in the dandelion yellow fabric of her eyelet lace skirt. A skirt that he remembered sneering at when he’d first seen her flouncing about in it but was now one of the few spots of color in their bleak, chrome-colored world. Her distress was clear in her face as she cast about as if looking for someone to intervene when she was asked about her preference.

Any thought he’d had of creeping away and forgetting what he’d heard flew out the window when his name passed her lips. It was hesitant, and the whisper barely carried to him across the cavernous room, but he heard it.

“Well, I suppose if I… I mean if there was ever the right time….. I… Perhaps… Doctor Rush?”

The world—the universe fell silent, replaced momentarily by a great, bulging sound in his head, a sort of buzz or ringing. She would choose him? Out of all the fit, young men to be found on the ship, she would choose the cranky older scientist that barely acknowledged her existence? But that wasn’t true at all. Belle was…

The smell of lavender and green leaves always clings to her fingers. She never dog-ears the pages of the books she borrows from him. Her hair is warm and heavy, almost alive in it’s own right. She never speaks above a murmur—unless it’s necessary. Her smile is slow and warm, dimpling at the corners in a way that always makes his fingers itch to touch. She is lovely, has an air of untouchable, ethereal grace like that of a painting made long before he was born. She is rich and vibrant and….

perfect. She was the only one he acknowledged, if he were truly being honest with himself. And though she laughed when he snarled and brought him food and water when he worked himself nearly to death and habitually pushed her hair back while she smiled at the ground instead of at him, it was a shock beyond any he could imagine that she would choose him.

But she wasn’t smiling now. Her little knuckles were whitening around each other as they clenched tight in her lap. The others were teasing her, taking turns guessing at where he would choose to have sex and he could spare no amount of irritation for his own abuse when their words—the words of her friends, were so clearly upsetting her.

“Please!” She cried, nearly the loudest he’d ever heard her speak. Her face disappeared behind her hands and she hunched forward in her seat as if trying to make herself appear smaller. “Please stop.”

While the other women tried to justify themselves to her, Rush reached into his pocket and slipped his spiral bound notebook into his hand. Flipping it open to a page scribbled over with her writing, he moved quickly into the room.

“Well, we’re just speculating on what his favorite positions would be—“

“Ah, sorry to interrupt,” he lied, proffering the notebook as a sort of shield from all of the startled, guilty gazes turned toward him. The biggest, bluest pair of eyes were the ones he settled on, trying to convey calm. “I had some questions about the notes you took for me the other day. I’m afraid I can’t quite make out your handwriting. If you wouldn’t mind…?”

Her stuttering acquiescence and hasty retreat from her party were clear signs of her discomfort, as well as the way that she meekly followed him down the corridor, probably cringing with each burst of guffaws from the hyenas behind. As the words and screeches became unintelligible, he searched high and low for some way to crack the horribly awkward silence between them. And then, inspiration.

“So,” he cleared his throat and fiddled with the ravaged pages of his notebook. “Camile and Sargent Greer, huh?”

There was no response and as she walked behind him, he had all of three seconds to work himself into a panic before she responded.

“Yeah, who would have thought?”

She sounded shaky, still somewhat self-conscious. But about what? She was light and honey and springtime and for some reason, she preferred him.

He motioned her through the doorway to his secluded workspace, following after her and closing the door behind them. This was usually where they worked best together, he muttering to himself like a mad scientist and she dutifully copying down whatever was legible and keeping him sane with her presence alone. Now, however, she couldn’t seem to settle, shifting constantly and twitching all over when he spoke to her. He kept up the steady stream of technical jargon and questions about her notes and was glad to see that it worked at least partway toward soothing her frayed nerves. He kept his voice quiet and calm, watching her unwind bit by bit. Except that she seemed flushed whenever he looked into her face. He wondered if the swill they’d been drinking had made her sick and thought more than once about sending her to bed. There was no real reason to keep her with him now that he’d rescued her from ridicule except that he wouldn’t turn her company away. 

“Now how about this one?” He asked and moved his hand over the page to indicate the note he was asking about. 

His skin brushed hers where she held the notebook and sparks practically flew from the space between them. He tried hard to keep his breath from rushing out of him, from alerting her to his awareness of the tension. He’d just asked her a question but for the life of him he couldn’t hear her answer. Just as she’d opened her mouth to speak, her strange, intoxicating scent had washed over him. Lavender, the plants that stained her fingers different shades of green when she visited her garden and something that must just be Belle. He allowed his eyes to flutter shut while she spoke, her low, suddenly husky tone buzzing in his ears and her warmth radiating through the space between them. 

If his stomach was still empty, he had no idea of it. He swore he could live on just this feeling alone. This night was going to be over entirely too soon for his liking.


	3. Confronting Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle can't stand the thought that she may have lost a friend with her drunken confession and goes to Rush's room to try to put it right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the quick publish and delete. :P I forget how the format for AO3 works every once in a while.

Belle could not focus on her book, and it was terribly frustrating. After rereading the same sentence roughly seven times and finding herself distracted every time by thoughts of…. She gave it one last try, placing her finger just below each word she read and mouthing it as well. No use. She’d already skipped one…. Intimate scene because it wasn’t the perfectly bronzed, perfectly confident hero she’d imagined taking the heroine in his arms. The man she pictured was scruffy and slight and his fingers were covered in ink stains from his favorite pen. She forced herself to set the book down gently when she got the urge to throw it at the opposite wall and hear the satisfying tear as the pages fell out. When she was ready to abuse a book, even a tacky romance novel like the ones she’d been supplied in her father’s small holding, it was time to pull herself together and deal with what was bothering her. Or rather whom. 

Dr. Nicholas Rush. The brilliant, stubborn, angry, incredibly Scottish lead scientist. He was her closest friend on this great maze of a ship, but she hadn’t seen him in a day and a half. Ever since—

“I…. Perhaps… Doctor Rush?”

Ever since she’d admitted her attraction to the crew’s social pariah to the entire female half of the crew…. And subsequently the social pariah himself. But she hadn’t known he’d been spying! How was she to know when to stifle her silly, drunken confessions and when to let them fly? And what’s more, the contrary man hadn’t said a thing about it once they were alone. She‘d expected derision, irritation, pity, laughter—anything! But instead he’d only combed over her notes with her insight, bid her goodnight with instructions to drink plenty of water and left her at the end of the corridor that held her room. Curse him. Any reaction, any at all would have been better then the utter ignorance he pretended. 

And that was when she decided to go and find him and straighten this all out. Standing from her bed with a nod to herself in the mirror (and a few adjustments of her hair where her pillow had crumpled her curls slightly) she turned toward the door determinedly. She would find him and explain everything and the air would be clear and they could work together again with no weirdness between them. And if he didn’t want to hear it, if he thought she was cornering him to force more professions of her love and adoration on him, well, she would block the door and make him listen. They could be okay. They had to be okay. They would be okay, damn it!

She set off down the corridor feeling like an oncoming storm, full of unprompted agitation and restlessness. She knew the path between their rooms like she knew her own name and made it in record time. She raised her fist and beat on his door, flinching at the loud, hollow sound that issued from the thick metal. She took a step or two back and glanced down at her hands, wondering what to do with them. Would crossing them come off as too aggressive? Would it be strange to clasp her hands behind her back? Did anyone do that? Was that even physically possible?! She’d suddenly completely forgotten. Perhaps this conversation would be better left for later— The door slid open to reveal the man himself, blinking at her with his glasses in one hand and another of their few books in the other. She felt herself practically turn to stone for a moment. Oh no, he was actually here before her. She couldn’t make herself move. She couldn’t talk, couldn’t breathe. Do the brave thing and bravery will follow.

“…Belle? You alright?” He asked carefully, as if he were afraid she would launch herself at him and try to gnaw a piece of his flesh off. Lucky for him, her goal was slightly less offensive… at least physically. Before he could open his mouth to speak again she slipped past him and moved into the room. There was hardly anything in it aside from his hand-carved chess set and a few worn paperback novels. As straight-laced and Spartan as the rest of him was. She moved toward the wall across from the doorway, waiting until she heard the quiet hiss as the door closed to lift her eyes to the bewildered man. 

“I’m- I’m fine. I just wanted to talk,” she struggled to keep her voice light, to smile and appear completely at ease. The result was that her voice squeaked and her hand knocked over his tidy stack of books as she spoke. “Oh, I’m sorry!”

“Don’t worry about them. Belle, are you sure you’re alright?” He tossed his glasses and book to the bed and made to approach her, probably to lay his hand against her forehead and insist she go see TJ. He froze when she raised her hands to ward him off. She needed to start talking before she lost her nerve.

“Please sit.” She waited until he sat primly at the foot of the bed, his hands folded together in his lap as he waited for her to speak again. “I… I just wanted you to know that despite what you heard the other night, I—”

“Oh, you don’t have to—” He looked somehow sad, even pained as he interrupted her. Defeated. It stung her to see clearly how little he wanted to have this conversation with her, how he’d rather just push it under the rug, even if that was the offer she’d come here to make in the first place.

“Yes, I do. Please let me finish.” She watched his hair slip into his face when he tipped his head down to stare at the floor and felt her fingers itch to run through it, to see if it was as silky as it appeared. “I want you to know that despite what you heard the other night, I have no designs on you. I will be completely professional and I will do my work as efficiently as I ever have and I won’t let anyone bother you about what I said and if you’d rather I keep my distance for a while—”

“Belle, calm down!” He cried, standing and moving a pace closer, looking concerned. “Look, I- I know you were just talking with your friends, and I know you didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to avoid you but I… I just thought you’d be more comfortable if I left you alone for a while.”

Belle reached down and lifted the black knight from the chessboard, turning it in her hands and stroking the pad of her thumb over the unevenly carved nose of the horse. 

“I don’t lie, Nick,” she murmured slowly. “I mean what I say when I say it. I don’t expect anything from you, and we don’t even have to talk about it again if that makes it easier. I just don’t want you to feel obligated or awkward because I couldn’t keep my feelings to myself.”

There was a momentary silence as she stood half-facing the wall, stroking her thumb over the little, half formed knight and trying to be patient while he found a careful way to ask her to leave. She would respect that, she would understand. He was a brilliant scientist, he’d lost a wife he loved and he was at the heart of the exact Ancient technology he’d spent a long time dreaming about. He would have no time for her. But she could face that as long as he would still work with her, still speak to her and treat her like a true friend. 

She sucked in a breath when she found him standing right beside her, so close that her shoulder brushed the center of his chest and goosebumps rose over her skin. He reached around her and wrapped his hand around hers over the little chess piece. His fingers were warm and rough and Belle worked hard to control her breathing when he gently slipped it from her grasp and set it back on the chessboard. She felt dizzy all of a sudden, biting the inside of her cheek to try to bring back some much needed clarity.

“You said that you expect nothing from me,” he said, and she might have nodded if she wasn’t so focused on the movement of his hand over her collarbone, pushing her hair back. It tickled deliciously and she shuddered. “Does that mean that you won’t welcome anything from me?” 

Oh. She turned slowly to face him, keeping her eyes down until he tipped her chin up to see her face. She was afraid to have misunderstood him, afraid that he would immediately regret it, that he didn’t feel the same and she was just… convenient. Her fears melted away like ice before the sun the moment his lips met hers. She wavered for a moment, unsure of what to do, but slid her arms up around his shoulders when he seemed to hesitate too. If he was willing to give her this, she would accept it, no questions asked.

Apparently encouraged by her… well, encouragement, he gently pressed her back to the wall. One hand settled into the hollow of her back and the other snaked up to rest at the base of her neck, his nails scratching ever so slightly against her hairline until she moaned softly. But he pulled away and rested his forehead against hers with his eyes shut.

“Belle,” he sighed.

“What? What’s wrong?” She panted, and bit her lip. She forced herself to loosen her hold rather than clutch at him. It was so perfect. Why had he stopped?

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong.” He took her hands in his and kissed her knuckles, laughing breathlessly as he looked down at her. “How could anything be wrong?”

She laughed in return, completely ecstatic and dizzy again but sure that he wouldn’t let her fall no matter what. “I don’t know, but I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve fallen asleep in my bed and dreamed all of this.”

He chuckled roughly and it rumbled through her like a wave as he stepped even closer, pressing against her chest to chest. He lowered his head and kissed her again, his hands framing her face as hers slipped down to his waist to knot in the fabric of his shirt. She inhaled sharply when he pulled her lower lip into his mouth and bit down on it gently. 

“Did that feel like a dream?” he breathed in her ear, nuzzling his nose into the soft skin just below her earlobe before drawing that between his lips too.

“Well, it feels like a lot of my dreams, but they’ve never been this—” she broke off with a moan as he bit down and leaned back against the wall for support. “Intense.”

He paused then, his hands falling to her waist and rubbing soothing circles there as he kissed her once, a slow, lingering kiss. “Should I slow down, love? I would like for you to stay the night in my room even if you only want to sleep together.”

“Oh, Nick.” She raised one hand to cup his cheek, smiling fondly when he turned his face into her palm and pressed his lips there. “You are very considerate but slowing down is the last thing I want.”

His brows twitched up over suddenly sparkling eyes and he dragged his teeth over the mound at the heel of her hand. “Really?”

“Oh, yes,” she giggled, though the breathy tone behind the words seemed to please him. “I want you—I need you to prove to me that this is not just another dream. Please, Nick.”

His entire demeanor changed at his words, from the carefully mild front he’d put up to soothe her to a wild, flushed harshness that sent a shudder through her. His breathing was fast and hot when he leant his forehead against hers, seeming to need the support as he pressed her closer to the wall. “You’ve dreamt of this? You’ve dreamt of us?”

“So often that I wake up with my panties soaked through more often than not—“ She moaned happily when he crushed his mouth to hers with a growl, lifting her with one arm around her back and the other buried entirely in her hair.   
It was a short stumble to the bed and then he was dragging her into the center of the bed and following her down. He seemed intent on sucking the air from her lungs into his own as his hands slipped under the hem of her tee shirt to burn against her skin. She tore her mouth away from his with a small cry when he dragged his blunt fingernails against her ribs but he was undeterred, latching his mouth onto her shoulder and biting down on the skin there while one hand snaked behind her back to twist apart the clasp of her of her bra. He encouraged her to lift her arms and she obeyed, watching as he disappeared briefly behind the fabric of her clothing as he all but jerked them off of her. He threw them to the side and leaned down on his elbows on either side of her, his eyes tracing over the newly revealed skin until his sight seemed to catch on her nipples. Before she could think to be embarrassed by his scrutiny, he’d leaned down to press a reverent kiss to each rosy peak, the kisses lengthening into strokes of his tongue until he finally closed his lips around one and sucked. She threw her head back into the mattress, both hands going to press his mouth tight to her as she bit her lip to stifle the urge to scream.

“Did you dream of that, my Belle?” he murmured to her as he freed one nipple only to capture the other, his hands busying themselves with the fastening of her jeans and then carefully tugging them down while he applied the same treatment to it. He climbed off the bed to discard them and took the chance to shuck off his many shirts, though he found his hands blocked by hers when he made to remove his own pants and found her sitting before him.

“Gods, yes.” Her hands made quick work of the button and fly of his jeans and she pulled them down to his knees and waited for him to step out of him before speaking again. “I dreamed of that very often, your mouth on me.”

He groaned as she leaned forward to remove his boxers as well, pressing a sweet kiss to the skin beneath his navel before she slipped the elastic carefully over his cock and down to join the pile of his jeans. He all but tackled her back to the bed and they laughed together for a moment as they crawled together up to the pillows. 

“What else have you dreamed of, love?” he breathed in her ear, one hand teasing lower and lower toward the scrap of cotton that hid her from his questing fingers. The sweet catch in her voice when he brushed one knuckle over her curls was too lovely not to repeat the gesture. “Tell me what you’ve thought about us doing in the dead of night, Belle.”

“Everything.” Her nails dug into his shoulders as he touched her more firmly. “I dream of you touching me everywhere, I dream of you with your fingers buried inside of me, I dream of tying you down to your favorite console and lying across it while I touch myself and you watch without being able to touch me. I dream of so many things, Nick.”

“Christ!” he hissed as she unerringly circled his pulsing cock with her little fingers and gave him a firm stroke. He regretted asking her that question now, as he clenched his jaw and thought of chicken beaks, stepping in a fresh pile of dog shit, the unpleasant clench in his gut when a student dropped a vial full of very volatile chemicals; anything but the beautiful and willing woman spread out beneath him like a feast for a starving man. When the sting of her thumbnail dragging along the underside of his erection made him fearful of spilling himself across her stomach, he pulled her hand off him, breathing hard through his nose. “Fucking hell!”

“Breathe, darling,” she cooed, using one arm about his shoulders to slowly bring him down against her and part her legs for him. “We can get to everything later.”

Her hands stroked soothing paths across his back and neck as she allowed him the time he needed to collect himself, though he was up and tearing at her thin underwear within seconds. Later or not, Rush thought he might die if he didn’t get to fuck her soon. She welcomed him back eagerly, sighing when he licked his way into her mouth and reached down to guide himself to her entrance. She was hot and tight and wet and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head as her legs came up to hug his hips to hers. He fancied he could taste the delicious little sound she breathed into his mouth when he pushed into her and he knew he would have to finish her off soon. He set a fast pace, drawing out of her and snapping his hips to plunge back into her. Her pussy clenched around him with every thrust, her little cries gusting against his lips forcing a groan from him.

“We will get to everything later, my Belle, I promise you that,” he panted, lifting himself up on one elbow to be able to reach between them and find the stiff bundle of nerves that would see her finished before him. She gave a soft cry, half sobbing as she slipped both hands to his arse and dug her nails into him. “But for now, I need you to take pity on a poor man and cum for me.”

She may have tried to laugh but the sound evolved into a quavering keen that rang around the small space as she clamped down around him and hugged him close. A more relieving sound Rush had never heard and he gave himself leave to follow her over the edge, his thrusts stuttering and halting as he shoved as deep as he could, growling. Something in him that had been would tight as a bow string for longer than he could remember uncoiled itself as he moved to her side and curled himself around her back. Her hand found his and slim fingers wove through his as she pulled his arm across her stomach like a blanket, ignoring the fact that they were spread across his comforter and would have to slip beneath it later. 

Rush felt his eyelids begin to droop as he pressed one last kiss to her shoulder, entirely satisfied to see the bruise he’d left on her earlier was darkening beautifully. It was not the most visible spot but they would both know it was there and if he happened to graze his fingertips across it while she was working to see if she would shudder and sigh for him, well, would she blame him too much? As sleep claimed him, he thought he heard Belle mutter something to him, but decided that it would keep for a few hours. At least until the morning after he’d woken her up with his lips and tongue against her clit.


End file.
